


untitled

by Eon-Flamewing (eonflamewing)



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22547146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eonflamewing/pseuds/Eon-Flamewing
Summary: challenge to self: write a complete story in as little words as possible. here it is.
Relationships: Richter/Herrscher
Kudos: 15





	untitled

Richter preferred nighttime. It was a simple difference for him; the night was calmer, more quiet, with a certain dignity that let him think. Too many things came to annoy him in the daytime - obligations that he had to fulfil, to put up with the self-serving concerns of other humans. The moment his apartment door closes behind him, the silence falls into place like curtains, cloaking him from what he does not wish to see. The few hours of silence that he has to himself are precious, and he would not suffer any outside interruptions.

It is raining tonight, a gentle whisper on the clear glass windows that panel one side of the living room. He pairs it with some loose-leaf tea, letting the scent of green waft through his home. The rain fits mellower tones, he thinks; and so he keeps the lights off, lets the city skyline shine in. There’s a certain melancholy to it - the buildings are illuminated from within, yet are ultimately still empty.

“Something on your mind?”

A soft voice from behind him as he gazes out into the rain. Herrscher appears from his room, his footsteps soft on the wooden floor. He stops behind the other, and slips his arms around Richter’s waist.

“No. Just thinking.”

He barely shifts as the other embraces him; he’s long since grown used to Herrscher’s brand of affection. Few people knew of his existence; a specter haunting a recluse, and it suits them just fine.

“You know they mean the same thing.”

Herrscher rests his chin on Richter’s shoulder. 

“... Do you ever think about the stars?”

He looks out at the city, its lights smeared into glassy streaks by the rain. Any stars in the sky would be blotted out by the clouds.

“Sometimes. Why?”

A moment of silence; a soft exhale before he replies.

“They are so distant from us that their light reaches us long after they have died. They are frozen in time, traveling for millions of years. Yet to the light itself, barely any time has passed since their creation. They never know when they will die. They do not know when they have died, until they have passed.”

Herrscher hums. The matter of whether light can truly die would be a natural question to Richter’s words, but he opts to not voice them. Now is not the time to disturb the other’s thoughts.

“To them, we are insignificant. I wonder why we live on this planet, in this world. If there is a true purpose for our existence; if the stars could blink and the entire human civilization would cease to be.”

Herrscher says nothing at first, gently combing the other’s hair with his hands, brushing out tangles and settling light blue locks back over his shoulders. He knows why Richter doubts himself so; he needs a purpose to live. He does not remember why, but his soul still yearns.

“Is this existence not enough for you?”

Silence again. He closes his eyes and listens to the rain, letting it fill the silence between them. Half a minute later, he speaks.

“No. I feel… that I have forgotten something. Something important.”

Herrscher takes his hands off the other’s shoulders, taking a few steps so that they stand side by side. Richter turns to face him on reflex; the streetlights gleaming in his pale eyes and lighting them to an ashen blue, like stars.

“It will come to you in time. Don’t worry. I’ll be here for you.”

He reaches out and folds the other’s hands in his own - Herrscher’s body is naturally cold, and his fingers sap the warmth from Richter’s skin. He doesn’t mind, though. It’s just another of the many small things that set Herrscher apart from everyone else.

“... Thank you.”

(He didn’t need much. He was content to stay inside forever, if it meant Richter would not worry about him.)

“Always. And… the tea will get cold soon, if we don’t drink it.”

Richter nods, turning to lead the other back to their dining room. He fills a cup for both of them, reluctantly letting go of Herrscher’s hand to nurse his tea. There’s no need to keep talking - they’ve known each other long enough for them to be perceptive of each other’s feelings. The warmth of the tea is comforting, and he’s able to feel content for the nonce. The rain is outside and they are inside - just as how things should be, in a world he can no longer control.

Herrscher preferred nighttime. It was a simple difference for him; he felt at home in the darkness. He still remembered the life that they had left behind, the endless fall into the void that had disintegrated both their vessels into orbs of light - all of it, to escape Heaven and its intent of predestined fates. But all of that is gone now, for Heaven had no power in the abyss. They were free, and it was worth it, even if their freedom cost Richter all of his memories.

One day, Richter would remember. Until then, Herrscher would do it for him, and maybe, this is enough.


End file.
